Title: When Death Comes a'Knocking: Book 1 – Of Revelations
Plot Mistresses: Shiozaki, Shaynie, Librarycat, Literary Eagle
Spell Researchers: Fellow wizards, witches & omnyouji at my Yahoo!Group
Scene Masters: Shiozaki and Librarycat
Beta-d by: Librarycat
Warning: R – IF YOU DON'T READ THE FOLLOWING THEN DO NOT COME COMPLAINING/WHINING AT ME LATER:
This chapter contains some R material. Please exercise due judgment in reading it. Again, we'd like to state here that we DO NOT believe in useless, pointless sex or acts of sexuality and/or violence just for the shock factor. Every nuance was taken into careful consideration to its effect on the overall plot.
We ourselves were a bit disturbed at some of the more graphic sexual/violent acts that have or will be portrayed in this story but we have unanimously decided that it's integral to the plot.
Please, do not merely READ, but THINK as to why we wrote so-and-so in such a way. THIS IS NOT A PWP (Plot? What Plot?) FIC. If you do not think and act wisely, merely taking this story at face value, WE WILL NOT HESITATE IN REMOVING THIS STORY IN ITS ENTIRETY FROM FANFICTION.NET.
TO ALL BELOW 18 YEARS OF AGE READERS:
Since writing fanfics, I was quite surprised at the number of young readers I've drawn in. I do believe in freedom to choose and I hope you exercise that right judiciously. Even if by standards you are not considered mature, I sincerely believe that you can act and think wisely. As I've said above, please do not take the sexual/violent acts in this story at face value. Try to understand why we did so; there is a reason, and a valid one it is, for why that certain scene is in there.
If I get reviews demanding for more lemons, more torture just for the sake of it, I WILL REMOVE THE STORY TO AN AGE-RESTRICTED SITE WHICH CAN ONLY BE ACCESSED BY THOSE WHO CAN PROVE THEIR AGE (AND MATURITY).
Other Warnings:
This chapter contains spoiler about the Kurosaki family; the current arc in Yami no Matsuei.
This chapter is bloody long too. 25 pages.
I've said it once, twice and more times than I cared for; this story is OC-CENTRIC. Not willing to give it a chance? Then don't.
Review Replies:
I'd just like to give a big shout-out to all who reviewed; good or bad or in-between. I'm sorry that I have been quiet at the mailing list recently but I'm in a bit of trouble with my dad about the internet bill *grin*. My hours online have been drastically cut down but the plus side is that my writing has gotten better. On that note; please be aware that you'll hear from me at the list either tomorrow (Wednesday, my time) or the day after. There's an important topic I need to discuss with all of you. Thanks again!
Chapter 26
The calm before the storm
Humming a tune he heard on the wizarding wireless once, Harry made his way to the library with a bounce in his steps and a lightness in his heart that felt all too strange for its rarity. He and Kyo had parted ways earlier; the Japanese making his way down the hallway that led to the professors' apartments. Meanwhile, the young wizard knew that he could find his two best friends at the library, him and Ron having promised Hermione that they'd meet her there after lunch to get a start on the paper that Takashi had assigned their class.
Harry slipped quietly inside, the door falling shut with a muffled click. Nevertheless, Madam Pince glared beadily, the boy giving her a sickly sort of smile as he apologetically made his way to the table already piled high with books, and scattered all over with parchments. Hermione, to Harry's surprise, was not writing feverishly as was her wont when confronted with an assignment, or even reading with an appetite that could rival a blast-ended skrewt for sheer voracity. She was instead lost in a rather old volume, the leather binding worn and cracked in places, and nibbling a lock of her hair thoughtfully. Ron kept his head down as he drew stick figures on broomsticks, offering Hermione as small a target as possible if she caught him slacking off.
With a smile, Harry joined them, Ron shooting him a quick grin while the bushy haired girl muttered some sort of greeting. Long used to his friends' study habits (or lack thereof when it came to a redhead named Ron), Harry got out his own supplies of ink, quill and parchment, setting them out neatly on his side of the table, and promptly disappeared into the stacks to find the books he needed.
Takashi sure gave us an interesting topic to write about, Harry thought vaguely as he wandered up and down the aisle that housed books on Eastern traditions and wizardry. Omnyoujitsu,
Harry grinned to himself. It still rankled Kyo to no end whenever someone made the mistake of referring to him or the other Japanese as 'wizards'. Something to do with a really annoying one they had met before Hogwarts, as well as the fact that the 'W' word was as misleading as the other colourful misnomers that the so-called Westerners affixed to the discipline of spiritualism.
A title caught his eye halfway down; The Long Journey Home. Taking that, as well as several other slim volumes that likewise sparked his interest, Harry went back to their study table, again humming a little tune.
"Hey, Harry," Ron stage whispered.
Harry, having decided that The Long Journey Home was the more interesting to start off his research, looked up, a smile on his face. "Yeah?"
"Are you okay? You're acting funny."
Harry blinked, taken aback and discomfited to notice that Hermione had abandoned her reading to scrutinise him carefully as well. "What?"
"Yes," Hermione said thoughtfully. "I see what you mean Ron."
"What?" Harry asked, exasperated.
"You look. . ." Ron trailed off, a finger tapping his chin. "Happy."
"At ease," Hermione supplied judiciously.
"Content."
"Joyous."
"Positively jo—ow!" Ron rubbed his forehead, pouting. Harry calmly took back the quill that had served as a missile and, with careful dignity, started reading.
"That's what you get for being a prat," he sniffed haughtily and over the top of his book, he caught the exchange of grins between his best friends. Harry swallowed his own smile. He really had the most wonderful friends anyone could ask for.
The minutes ticked by, marked by the rustling of pages, the scratch of quill on parchment. Ron had finally decided that the essay should be given some attention and promptly stole the books Harry had set aside. The essay they were assigned wasn't exactly difficult. Rather, it was. . .interesting.
Samhain and Obon: The Festivals of the Dead – Discuss the similarities and differences with references to local cultures.
Wetting the nib of his favourite quill, Harry (despite Hermione's years of lecturing, he only made the bare outlines when doing an essay. He found free-writing to be quite exhilarating), with occasional reference to the book he had open, started his paper.
The Japanese Obon or Festival of the Dead marks the culture's respect to its deceased. Based on the teachings of the Sakyamuni Buddha from the Urabon Sutra, it reflects the Japanese-
"This book is so. . .annoying!"
Harry flinched, sighing in resignation at the resultant ink splatters. He dug out his wand and erased the wet blotches. That done, he pushed his essay to the side (just in case), folded his hands on top of the table and fixed Hermione with his best 'what is it now?' stare.
The young witch huffed impatiently, obviously resisting the temptation to send the fat volume she held flying. Ron ducked reflexively, just in case she changed her mind, but Harry kept his patient expression steady.
"Why do you say that?" he asked. With Hermione still huffing and puffing, he pulled the volume closer and turned it around so that he could look at it right side up. "Whoa! This guy looks just like Hisoka!"
"Really?" Distracted, she craned her neck and took another look. "I guess," Hermione said doubtfully. "But if I hadn't read it, I wouldn't have made the connection."
"What's it say?" Ron demanded impatiently. He had no interest in reading something that the girl had already ploughed through and could probably summarize in one or two well-chosen sentences. Harry was ignoring him, completely absorbed in the account on the open page, so he looked expectantly at her.
"All it says is that the Kurosaki family was cursed by some snake god, Yatonogami, I think. The main Kurosaki line ending should have brought disaster on the local villagers, but somehow, shortly before the death of the sixteenth and final head of the family, the curse was broken." She nudged Harry, dragging his attention from the book. "The thing is, if the family died out, why did Hisoka say that that guy is his father?"
"He did?" Harry asked, surprised. From what he knew of Hisoka, the young blond disliked talking about himself or his family. If he had any. Which, judging by what Harry had just read, he did. And a very respectable family it was. If Harry understood it right, the Kurosaki family was almost as old as the Malfoys.
Hermione nodded, biting her lower lip and looking surprisingly guilty. "I met him here after the game. When he saw the picture. . . .he freaked out."
Harry raised an eyebrow. Somehow, the phrase 'freaked out' and Hisoka just didn't gel together. "Freaked out?" he repeated dubiously.
"Freaked out," Hermione nodded. She frowned pensively, shooting a glance at Harry. "It was just so. . .odd. He was angry. . .and frightened. All at the same time. As if his father were the last person he wanted to run into. Then he sent me to fetch Professor Tsuzuki, just before he fainted."
"Uh. . ." Ron flushed a brilliant scarlet. "Maybe his parents weren't married, and he couldn't inherit? That could explain why he. . .fr-"
"Ron!" The darker boy glared at him, snapping "I got it, already. Leave it be." His earlier cheer was turning into familiar, gut-churning worry. It wasn't so much that Hisoka had passed out; Harry had figured out that empathy and emotional shocks didn't mix at all well, but rather that Hisoka's own father could have such an effect on him.
Hermione shot the red-head an irritated look as well. Honestly, dear though Ron was, he could just be so dense at times. "If his parents weren't married, then how can Hisoka be using the Kurosaki name? I assume he would have had to have been acknowledged by his father to do that. And if he was, then he would have been the heir, and the family line wouldn't have ended."
Harry shoved the book back toward her with a frustrated sigh. "It doesn't say anything about how the curse was broken, or even when."
"I know. But Famous Curses Around the World is the only book it's listed in. I would never have expected to say this, but this library is really pathetic when it comes to other parts of the globe."
When both Ron and Harry made to check outside the window to see if the sky was falling down, hearing Hermione criticise her beloved library, she threatened them with a volume of Dead Rituals and Deader People and the two boys went back to their work with identical looks of contrition.
Not that the brilliant witch was fooled of course.
She kept the fat tome close. Just in case.
***************
"Headmaster."
"Ah, Severus," Dumbledore smiled beatifically, gesturing for the Potions Master to make himself comfortable in one of a pair of blue and silver embroidered armchairs, the other occupied by the sickeningly familiar form of the werewolf. Their earlier meeting had been postponed. Snape's sole contact within the Death Eaters had sent a package that required a careful dismantling of the various distraction charms, notice-me-nots of a variety that they just don't teach in schools nowadays, and deadly traps for those who lack the proper key. It took Snape a good two hours to get through the layers of hexes and protections and he wondered at his old friend's almost unseemly, near-paranoid precautions. Not surprising considering the situation that they were both in but still, it was far more than usual.
Snape declined the Headmaster's standard offer of tea with a sharp shake of his head. The box he held between his white-knuckled grip threatened to break under the pressure and he quickly and unceremoniously pushed aside some of the organised clutter on Dumbledore's desk. The dark haired man set down the burden he carried as gently as if it were a baby, or was as deadly as a live curse. Both Dumbledore and Lupin leaned forwards in their seats, interest and caution evident in their faces.
"Severus?" Lupin waved a hand at the box, making no move to touch it. He knew better than to do so without permission from the tightly wound professor. "What did he send you?"
He, meaning Silas. Snape's already thin lips thinned further at the subtle reminder of the only person left alive he dared call friend. Whatever it was Silas had sent him, his friend had done so at great personal risk. Silas, great fool that he was, had actually gone through the Dark Lord' private study (wherever that was, as Silas was still unsuccessful in circumventing the dark charm that kept the Death Eaters' current headquarters a secret.).
"He wrote, saying that the Dark Lord's investigations into the Japanese's background has borne fruit," Snape said abruptly. He had yet to sit down. His hands, though no longer mangling the box, were resting on either side of the plain, brown package, innocuous in appearance.
Dumbledore winced softly. The Order's own research had yielded precious little. Whatever this Japanese Omnyouji Coalition was, they were as secretive, if not even more so, than the Death Eaters themselves. Getting what little information they did (which was nothing more than a confirmation of the four Japanese's identities) had used up almost all of their resources. Practitioners of magic in Japan were a solitary lot. That, or clannish to the point of murderous suspicions when a stranger started asking too many questions.
"More than ours?' Dumbledore asked mildly. His gnarled fingers grasped the fine china of his tea cup. Even if Snape refused his hospitality, the canny old wizard was not going to let all that good tea go to waste. He had a feeling that he needed the bracing.
Snape nodded once; a sharp gesture. "My former comrades," his lips curled in distaste, "Had no hesitation in using other means in procuring their information—"
"Nor did we," Lupin interrupted. "Even contacting their underground network yielded almost nothing. What did they offer that could entice any of the dark omnyouji?"
Snape shot Lupin an almost hateful look. If there was one thing the man could not stand, it was getting interrupted mid-sentence. "It's not so much as what they were offering, but what they were asking instead."
Dumbledore raised one eyebrow, mouth forming a small 'o' of apprehension. "That does not sound good," he murmured to his tea.
"It does not," Snape agreed, and to the other two's surprise, he sat down unexpectedly, not quite pushing himself away from the as yet undisclosed package on the Headmaster's desk. "The Dark Lord, as Potter had seen the other night, knows that our guests are powerful. And that they can either be formidable allies or foes. When they found that it was useless to get information on the four we're hosting here, they tried another front." Snape paused and Lupin barely held himself back from accusing the other man of unnecessary dramatics. "They asked whether there had been any omnyouji who had succeeded where the Dark Lord failed."
"What? Killing Harry?" Lupin asked in bewilderment. But it appeared as if the old Headmaster knew what bush Snape was beating about. His heavy white eyebrows drew together in an ominous frown and his mouth disappeared in his beard.
"Oh dear," said the defeater of Grindelwald.
"Achieving immortality, you blithering idiot," the snarky Potions Master snarled at the hapless werewolf.
"Oh dear," Lupin echoed faintly. Unnoticed, his fingers dug into the wooden arm support of his chair, his unnatural strength nearly cracking the grain. "They—there weren't any, right?" he asked hopefully and immediately slumped in weariness at the look in those dark eyes.
"This particular omnyouji," Snape started hesitantly, his own fingers, stained from years of working with potions and herbs, drumming a restless tune on his thigh. "Almost achieved eternal life. By all accounts, and he's something of a legend among the dark practitioners. Apparently, he was already immortal. Or at least, able to withstand what a mere wizard can't," he finished on a rather dry note.
Catching the enquiring looks on both faces, Snape sighed, giving in to the lesser mortal's need for a good story. "Stabbings, gunshot wounds, exploding buildings and some claimed, mauling by a dragon."
There was some rapid blinking on Lupin's part while Dumbledore stole the opportunity to fortify himself with more tea.
"This man did die in the end, but they said it was due to misfortune, rather than his own magic failing," Snape continued and if possible, his face fell in grimmer lines, highlighting his sallow skin. "He was kidnapped, tortured and subsequently, driven insane by an enemy. He died mad, though still appearing in the bloom of his. . .beauty."
Lupin's mouth broke into a tight smile. "That's good. Not that I would wish such a fate on anybody," he assured hastily amidst Snape's sneer and Dumbledore's soft huff of laughter. "But at least, that means the Death Eaters didn't get their hands on whatever method this dark omnyouji was using to sustain his life. . . .or not," he finished bleakly. The former Death Eater turned spy was giving him that special glare that meant 'would I be wasting my breath with foolish storytelling if there wasn't a point?'
"With a sizeable amount of gold, the Dark Lord's forces have managed to get several of the man's journals. Journals which detailed his spellworkings. Coded," Snape informed them sourly, "But nevertheless, it's all there."
Dumbledore released a long breath, the air whistling through his beard in a soft hiss. The tea cup he cradled was set back down gently and the old man carefully folded his hands across his chest, peering at the package upon his desk over gold half-moon glasses. "Dare I guess. . .?"
Snape nodded tersely. "He managed to copy one of the journals. There's three of them, all heavily warded. Even this one," he nodded at the brown box, "is incomplete. He was interrupted midway."
"But not compromised?"
"No," Snape answered firmly. "I would know. Imperious or no, I would know."
The three fell quiet then, each contemplating the brown box that appeared innocent in its simplicity. The implications of what was just revealed was too enormous, too weighty to be taken in all at once. Someone had succeeded where the Dark Lord had failed. Even if death had still claimed the man, he had proven that there was a way. Only the strongest and the most brilliant could achieve this and they wondered, eyeing the unopened package, what else had this dark omnyouji had learned.
Dumbledore sighed heavily, passing a hand across his face. "Voldemort's interest in our guests is partly our fault," he admitted. "They had revealed what they were capable of in the course of protecting our students and this school." He caught the look on Snape's face and said sternly, "You can't deny this, Severus. If not for their intervention, we might have lost students and a professor to the manticore attack. We might have lost Harry. Again, I have failed to deliver what I promised," he finished softly.
Both Lupin and Snape shifted uncomfortably in their seats. They were, perhaps, the two people who were in the esteemed wizard's presence most often and they had seen him in various moods and states; though it usually differed from infuriating calmness to infuriating senility. But when the odd guilt and self-reproof set in, neither knew how to handle it. Doubts and culpability was just not Dumbledore.
"But what's done is done," the Headmaster said severely, clapping his hands together. Even his beard looked stern. "Severus, have you looked through the journal?"
The Potions Master shook his head in the negative. "Silas has already warned me that it's in Japanese. I thought. . ." he hesitated, eyeing the Headmaster carefully, "Since it appears as if you've reached an. . .accord with the Japanese, we could ask for their help in translating it. They are also the best candidates to help break the man's code."
Dumbledore nodded in agreement and Lupin murmured in concurrence. "I shall have Tsuzuki and Matsumada take a look at it. After I've briefed you two on the conversation I've had with Tsuzuki, that is. Oh, and Severus?"
Snape looked up, having finally accepted the Headmaster repeated offers of tea and was making sure that his usual dose of sugar wasn't exceeded (that is to say, none, but Dumbledore was nothing if not persistent). "Sir?"
"Did Silas tell you this dark omnyouji's name? Perhaps Tsuzuki or Matsumada may know of him, if he has such notoriety as you've claimed," Dumbledore said calmly even as he flicked his wand and a lump of sugar plopped into Snape's cup.
With a wordless snarl, a wave of his own wand dissolving the sugar into nothing, Snape growled, "Muraki." His lips curled again in uttering the foreign name. "Kazutaka Muraki."
***************
"Harry, can you please pass me the eggs?"
"Of course, Hermione."
The clink of knife against plate, goblets chiming sweetly when a first year got overenthusiastic in replenishing the pumpkin juice; all this was the usual cacophony that was the backdrop to what was a normal breakfast on a Monday.
Although, Harry added silently to himself, 'normal' might just be wishful thinking.
Harry was sitting at his usual spot at the Gryffindor table, flanked by Ron and Hermione. The three of them were valiantly trying to maintain the façade of good cheer and enthusiasm, assuring everyone that cared that no, everything's fine, really and whatever gave you the idea that anything was wrong?
Though, their little routine tended to fall flat whenever someone merely glanced over at the two sitting across from the Gryffindor trio.
The air between Kyo and Hisoka crackled with icy tension.
Hisoka was ignoring the plate before him that Hermione had piled high with eggs and kippers, reading a book instead and occasionally taking a sip of coffee. Kyo, by his side, was attacking his breakfast with a semblance of his usual energy but one couldn't help but notice the little looks he sent Hisoka's way, loaded with emotion that none of the wizards or the witch dared to interpret. At one point, Kyo, visibly squaring his shoulders like a young soldier getting ready for battle, spoke up softly, "Hisoka, I—"
Hisoka stopped him with a "Not now," which was perfectly flat and toneless, not even looking up from his book. Kyo barely bit back a wince, unhappiness clear on his face before it settled back into a blank mask. He didn't try to talk to Hisoka again after that and not one of the trio dared to draw the young blond into conversation. If he was that cold to his own close friend how, in Merlin's name, would he treat them? Harry could feel the tension vibrating from the young witch by his side. Hermione thought that the apparent strain between the two Japanese was brought on by her book, not to mention that she was dying to find out more about the Kurosaki. Hisoka's violent and negative reaction was one of the few things that stopped her from asking the blond.
Harry tried to draw Kyo into a discussion about Gryffindor's chances of winning the Quidditch Cup. The wizard hated the defeated light in his friend's eyes, after last night when Kyo had entered the common room with a genuine smile that had been missing for some time now.
Kyo's responses were forced; anyone with half an ear could tell but the blue eyed boy was trying his best. He almost looked as if he were about to cry when Hisoka stuffed the book into his bag and got to his feet. The cool indifference of the empath's pale and perfectly calm features was contrary to the way his hands shook as he settled the bag's strap on his shoulder, and then he was gone, slipping effortlessly through the chaos.
Kyo sat still, frozen in shock. Harry reached across the table and took the fork from his unresisting grasp. "Go after him, you prat. We'll be along in a minute." With visible effort, the Japanese boy shook himself back into awareness.
"But- "
"But, nothing. You're too good friends to let whatever this is continue to build up. I know there's more to this than his father, or even your sword fight. It started at Samhain, right? So, go on." Harry said firmly. He studiously ignored the way Hermoine's eyebrows twitched up, and Ron's mouth dropped open. The only thing that mattered was the way that the light returned to Kyo's transparent blue eyes, and the way his mouth suddenly quirked up into a genuine smile. Whatever was bothering the foreign boys might not be any of the English wizard's business, but he still wanted Kyo to be happy. And just at the moment, that meant keeping his nose out of their way, and letting them work it out themselves.
"Thanks, Harry. You're a peach!" Kyo was untangling his long legs from the bench and running before the other boy had a chance to do more than snort and roll his eyes.
**************
Catching up to Hisoka was harder than it sounded. Every kid in the school seemed determined to be heading crossways on Kyo's path, or inclined to stop and chat in a big gaggle that blocked the hallway. He finally cleared the last group, only to find that the slow, majestic rotation of the staircases had left him without a way up to the large room in the south wing that had become home to the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Kyo felt an overwhelming temptation to say discretion be damned and just fly up to the desired level, but Takashi would have his head for it. He fidgeted, considering if any other route would do the trick, before conceding with a wry grimace that circumnavigating the whole hall would get him to the second floor just about when the stairs would be finishing their swing back into position.
But that didn't mean that he wasn't first in line to sprint up the steps two at a time when he finally did get the chance.
Harry, damn his perceptiveness, had hit the nail on the head when he had commented that this had been a long time coming. Aside from the whole issue of the Boy-Who-Lived's fate, there was the fact that Kyo had a guilty suspicion that he owed Hisoka an apology for pushing him into duelling with shisei. Fighting with live steel was not a good idea when one of the people involved was going nutters. Kyo knew that it bothered the smaller boy a lot that he had been forced to wound him. And then there was the whole mess with Akuma. Kyo was relieved that Hisoka had been unconscious for the demon's torment, and had a sneaking suspicion that Enma-sama had had a hand in that, but his friend had still been caught in the projected nightmares, and had recklessly spent his strength to protect Harry. And that should have been Kyo's task.
The broad corridor leading to the classroom was nearly empty; only a few other early birds were in evidence. Kyo barely noticed the sleek, corn silk fair hair of that Slytherin boy, Malfoy, or the dark curls of the Ravenclaw, Amanda Fitzhugh, distinctive over the anonymous black robes that all the students wore. Instead, his eyes sought out the familiar burnished gold belonging to his friend.
Hisoka was standing beside his usual desk, laying out quill and parchment with the same deliberate movements that he tended to use for everything, from handling a sword to selecting a book in the library. Looking at the smooth lines of his bowed shoulders, you would never guess that there was anything the matter, but even Kyo, with his limited empathy, could feel the wrongness.
"Hisoka, I- " Kyo began.
"Drop it. We have nothing to discuss." The monotonous reply was just loud enough to attract the attention of the scattered students in the room; identical puzzled frowns settling on Malfoy and Amanda, among others. Obviously, the rumors about their duel were far from dead. Kyo hesitated, torn between reassuring the younger wizards, and shaking Hisoka until his teeth rattled.
The blond had been small for his age at his death. But something about his slender and well-proportioned figure, or maybe it was his rigidly erect carriage as he turned his back on the group of them, made him seem taller than he was. It would have stopped Kyo from laying a hand on him, even if he had been willing to risk hurting him by provoking his empathy. Frustration roiled in Kyo's stomach, turning his breakfast to concrete and making his hands clench in the folds of his robes.
The cheerful gabble of approaching voices cut short their exchange; Tsuzuki and Takashi had arrived. Kyo's eyes shot instinctively to his husband's, wordlessly communicating his joy at seeing his love, and his concern over their friend. Message received, Takashi nodded, jerking his head imperceptibly toward the taller man beside him. Tsuzuki looked haggard with sleeplessness and worry. Kyo pursed his lips thoughtfully. So, the empath's refusal to discuss what was on his mind extended to his partner, as well. They would just have to see about that, wouldn't they? A fleeting smile sped across Takashi's face as he nodded again.
The room began to fill up as the other students of the combined Defense and Care of Magical Creatures session trickled in. Professor Lupin arrived, smiling broadly as he drew the two Japanese professors aside into an impromptu huddle. Something that he said caused Tsuzuki to finally laugh out loud, exclaiming "Maa! That Hagrid is such a coward! It's only a little demon.. . ." as Takashi cuffed him affectionately on the back of his head. Lupin shook his head, an easy grin lending a sparkle to his tawny eyes. Kyo felt his heart melt at the sight of the three men, English and Japanese, united in their passion for the class's subject matter. Out of the corner of his eye, Kyo caught Hisoka staring with wrenching intensity, and the pleasure he felt tumbled into ash. Oh, we are definitely going to do something about you, my reluctant friend. . .
The second bell had rung before the feverish level of fidgeting died down. Most of the students were eager to see what was coming, rumors having spread about Tsuzuki's plans since he had mentioned Monday's class at Gryffindor's Quidditch practice. Some of them were of course completely ridiculous; like the ones suggesting that they were going to see the Japanese summon a Prince of the Makkai, or that the students would each have to individually banish a Minor Imp. . .But still, the British students didn't know the senior Shinigami's track record. Taken in that light, some of the rumors weren't as so far-fetched after all. Kyo grimaced and resisted the urge to take a seat as far from the epicentre as he could get.
Lupin was on his knees, chalking a ring of runes outside the intricate pattern of Sanskrit that Takashi had drawn. The two professors worked comfortably side by side, exchanging an occasional comment. Kyo felt a brief pang of jealousy, one that he knew was unfair, but still. . .During their long separation, Taka had obviously found a way to occupy himself, if his easy camaraderie with the werewolf was any indication. Tsuzuki joined them, taking a long-legged stride over the pattern on the floor before dropping down to squat on his heels.
"Ne, Lupin-san, what kind of symbols are these?" he asked curiously. He traced a finger above the chalk, a faint rosy glow trailing behind its tip. The Englishman glanced up.
"Ogham, which is the Celtic system. I'm not as fond of the Norse runes for this sort of thing."
"Ah. There's power in them already. It will make a strong containment ward." Tsuzuki rose, dusting his hands on his slacks.
Takashi shot the two professors a sharp look, murmuring "Don't frighten the students, you baka." as something approaching normal good humor lit the taller man's violet eyes. It hadn't escaped any of their notices that the assembled class was following the exchange with nervous intensity. He skirted the inscribed circles, heading for the black board at the head of the room.
Kyo stole the opportunity to glance around. Harry was, as per normal, seated right beside him, with Hermione on his far side, and Ron occupying the desk beyond. By the look of it, the girl was concentrating so hard on copying down every symbol drawn on the floor that her hair practically bristled. The redheaded Gryffindor, in contrast, was still doodling Snitches in the margins of his parchment The Japanese boy stifled a grin; it would serve Mr. Weasley right if Hermione refused to share her notes. Harry, on the other hand, was trying to be discreet as he peered behind Kyo's back to where Hisoka sat, stiff and unresponsive. All in all, a typical start to another typical day of school.
Tsuzuki's apologetic cough brought him out of his reverie as he called the class to order, saying "Welcome to the combined Defense and Care of Magical Creatures session. I know we have a larger than usual group because of it, so please, be considerate of your neighbors. I would ask that you all put your wands away, so that we will have no unexpected spells cast if you should become startled." Grinning, he waited patiently for the resultant rustling to die back down. Several students grumbled over the order, but no one actually disobeyed. He continued, his tone becoming more serious. "Good. Now then, as you have all undoubtedly heard, today's class will involve the conjuration and banishment of a very minor demon; a lesser oni."
Takashi joined him as Lupin sidled over to a vacant seat in the corner. The former sensei took over the lecture. "Yes, a demon. However, I have to caution you that the Japanese concept of a demon isn't quite the same as the European. Many of the things we lump together under the term are, in point of fact, nature spirits, and not really evil at all. That said, the variety of oni that we will be studying today are denizens of the lowest plane of existence, Hell, and can be readily identified by their red or green bodies and horns." A smile twitched his lips as he spotted Hermione's hand involuntarily creeping into the air. "Miss Granger?" the professor said politely.
"Er. . .if demon's aren't all evil, then how would you exorcise them?" she asked. An anxious murmur ran through the circle of students and Takashi sighed.
"We're getting ahead of ourselves here, but I can see that you're worried. The answer is by means of the practitioner's spiritual energy, in much the same way as a Western priest would. When we were researching for this class, it became apparent that this is one area that your traditions – for example a Catholic exorcism – also require the invocation of a deity, just as onmyoujitsu does. This similarity- " The professor stopped dead, the rest of the explanation forgotten as he snapped to attention, turning in place as his senses quested out after the source of a stabbing uneasiness.
Without thinking, Kyo found himself on his feet, ofuda appearing between his fingers from the holster hidden on his leg, just as they did in Tsuzuki's hands. The very stones of the castle's foundations were singing a deep, bass note of warning that vibrated up through his bones. Danger. . .Attack . . But they failed to pin-point a source, and that made him very uneasy. He spared a glance for Hisoka, and was relieved to see the boy's poker face transform into a kind of hunting-dog watchfulness; obviously, he had felt it, too.
Lupin lunged out of his corner, his supernaturally heightened senses catching the growing swell of power from the castle's air. A wild growl rumbled up from the man's narrow chest as he drew his wand, snapping a quick sealing spell over the room's tall windows. He had barely completed the gesture before Hogwarts' alarm reached a level audible to all the students as a rising banshee shriek. His shout rode over the wailing, "Students! Proceed to your dormitories, at once! Prefects, you will report to your Head of House and assist in taking role call. Now, MOVE!"
The mass of students were streaming out the door before any of them thought to protest. As he moved to follow them, Lupin caught at Takashi's arm, saying "Could you go with the Ravenclaws?" The auburn head inclined without question and the professor began herding his charges in the direction of the north towers. Tsuzuki caught his eye and said clearly, "I'll take the Slytherin students to their common room. Hisoka and Kyo can handle the Gryffindors." The shorter wizard gave him a grateful, lopsided grin. "Well, I suppose that leaves me with the Hufflepuffs."
Staring after Takashi's retreating back, Kyo caught an strange look that one of the Ravenclaw girls, Amanda Fitzhugh, threw his way. It sent an odd shiver down his spine, and he wondered what the heck that was all about. But his confusion was forgotten as he hurried after the group of Gryffindors.
****************
Harry's pulse was hammering in his ears, and it was not a pleasant feeling. Neither was the hard, dry lump in his throat, or the clammy sweat beading down the small of his back and along his ribs.
He was scared.
The focused air of concentration around Kyo didn't do much to reassure him. The older boy was distracted, seeming to be listening to a conversation that was inaudible to normal ears, and it was pretty spooky. Harry, and of course, Hermione, Ron and Ginny, knew the real motives that brought the four Japanese to England. That the Japanese coalition had sent two young boys (and their respective husbands) as their emissaries was put down as a Japanese thing; Hisoka wasn't even old enough to shave. While they could envision Tsuzuki and Matsumada fighting evil wizards and banishing malicious ghosts, Hisoka, and to a certain extent, Kyo, seemed too. . .young for such a job. Not that Harry could say that they weren't any good; he had seen them battle the manticore after all. But still, one look at Hisoka's beautiful face and Kyo's guileless blue eyes, and the thought that these two were fighters of any kind was rather farfetched.
But now. . .watching them move in concert, he started to wonder just what kind of training omnyouji really got. Kyo's quick stride brought him up alongside the English boy where a light brush of his shoulder silently offered comfort. Hisoka paced at the head of the pack, his tread light and balanced. At every intersection, he moved out ahead of them, head tilted to one side as his abilities stretched out to seek danger. The talisman between his fingers was steady.
The horrible banshee wailing of the castle's alarm had the annoying habit of pausing for a couple of minutes, and then resuming. The sound grated on Harry's nerves, and he wondered how anyone would be able to hear an attacking force over the racket, let alone be able to think up a defensive plan. He was shaking visibly by the time the noise cut off for good, and was embarrassingly happy to see the Fat Lady's portrait up ahead, with a stern McGonagall standing watch beside it. She chivvied the mass of students through the opening, commanding that they all stay in the common room for the time being.
A sudden warmth pressed close against his side made Harry look down in surprise. "Ginny?" he asked softly, "Are you okay?"
The redhead slipped an arm around his waist for a brief hug. "Yes, I think so," she whispered before releasing her hold on him. Both exchanged tight smiles. The common room was packed full, as if they had just won a Quidditch game, but it had none of the raucous high spirits that went with that kind of an event. Rather, the students were forming worried little clumps, speaking in hushed tones even as they stared nervously into the darker corners of the big room. Harry actually saw Dean clamping a hand over Seamus's mouth when the Irish boy looked to be cracking a joke, shooting a significant look at Harry's way.
The young wizard didn't blame Dean for his precaution. Close as he was to Kyo, and to some lesser degree, Hisoka, he didn't dare to say anything what with the heightened urgency that had put an unfamiliar wariness into the young omnyouji. Kyo was standing nearest to the portrait hole, paper talismans still blatantly displayed while Hisoka took up a position between the stair cases to the girls' and boys' dormitories, his 'fudas also held in readiness. People on either side of them were giving the Japanese nervous looks but the both of them ignored it
It was only when everyone was in and the Fat Lady's portrait spelled shut that Kyo and Hisoka finally put their talismans away, earning sighs of relief from that part of the House who had seen just what those little bits of paper were capable of. Harry and his friends chose seats on the floor near the roaring fireplace, and like everyone else, focused their attention upon Professor McGonagall and the Prefects, who were silently counting heads.
"The alarm you heard is the result of defense mechanism being activated," their Head of House began without preamble, pursed lips thinned. "It signals when the castle's perimeter has been breached- "
"You mean You-Know-Who is attacking the castle?!"
The third year's frightened shout immediately triggered a flood of panic, as each sought to be heard over another, protesting that Hogwarts was the safest place in the wizarding world while a handful insisted that You-Know-Who himself was probably stalking the very halls right this minute. A huge bang from the professor's wand however, quickly restored order. That, and the threat of point deductions.
With the students back in their seats, looking abashed, the professor snapped "I assure you, if such an attack were underway, we would inform you. However, until the precise nature of the emergency is known, no one is to leave the common room. Should you require the use of the lavatory, or schoolbooks from your dormitory, you will ask a Prefect to escort you. Is this abundantly clear?" The Transfigurations Mistress waited impatiently until a rising murmur assured her that her charges had heard, and would obey.
Her rigid spine relaxed marginally as she smiled fondly. Every one of these children were Gryffindors, even the honorary pair, the Japanese. The moment of panic had passed, and McGonagall knew that they would all make her proud. She glanced around the crowded room, meeting the eyes of her House. "The Headmaster and the rest of the professors are in the process of tracking down and dealing with the disturbance. Our sole duty is to remain here, out from under foot. They will sound the all clear as soon as it is safe." With that, McGonagall left them to their own devices, quickly retiring to the little office by the common room that she rarely, if ever, used.
With resigned sighs and glances silently exchanged, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny took out their books, followed by the rest of the House and soon enough, the careful scratch of quill on parchment replaced the speculation and gossip. Kyo and Hisoka though, merely watched over them from opposite sides of the room.
****************
Someone was tugging lightly at the short hairs by his ear, a soft giggle rumbling behind and to the side of him. Sleep was reluctant to let go of young Harry and he rose slowly from the welcome depths. He was first aware of the fact that the cushion underneath him was an intriguing mix of hard and soft, warmth leaching from the cotton covers. The hair tugging was abandoned in favour of the soft end of quill brushed lightly across his nose.
"Ron!" Harry whined, trying to burrow deeper into the cushion, "Cut it out!"
"Cut what out?" asked a very amused Ron from what sounded like a several feet away.
That little fact burned clearly in his befuddled mind and his eyes snapped open, going wide with sudden realisation. The scent of lilies and another soft, feminine giggle assured him that his comfortable pillow wasn't one and that he was in danger of staying permanently red. Almost fearful, he peered up through his bangs and sure enough, Ginny's laughing blue eyes met his, a gentle tilt of her lips conveying her amusement.
"Had a nice nap, Harry?" she asked, still smiling softly.
Harry swallowed hard, sure that even his eyes were turning red with the amount of blood in his head. He nodded dumbly and quickly scrambled up to a sitting position, patting his hair self-consciously and taking his glasses from a Hermione who was trying very hard to not burst into laughter. Thankfully, his close friends were the only witnesses, the rest of his House spread out in chattering groups as books, quills and parchments were packed away and students began making their way out of the portrait hole.
"What happened?" he asked hastily, and the grins on his friends' faces widened.
"The lockdown has been called off. It's lunchtime now," Ginny informed him cheerfully and helped Harry to gather his schoolwork together without asking.
Hermione continued where Ginny left off. "Professor McGonagall said that it's safe to go out now but classes are cancelled for today and tomorrow." She scowled fiercely at the thought of missing precious education time and scowled harder at Harry and Ron's fervent praises of "Thank Merlin!"
"Don't think that means you can get away with putting off the Defense paper to the last minute, Ron," she scolded the redhead who merely grinned in response. "The professor said that until curfew, everyone has to stay in their common rooms except for meal times until tomorrow night. We're going to have leave you for that Harry," she explained apologetically. "Prefects are required to escort the students to and from the Great Hall."
Harry waved the apology away with a smile, shoving his bookbag under a convenient table. "Nah, I understand. Besides, I have Ginny here to. . ." he trailed off, and again, he cursed his fair skin which showed every pint of blood in it like a neon sign. "That is," he stammered, trying valiantly to ignore the snickering that had overcome his former best friends, "If. . if Ginny doesn't mind. . .?"
A small, warm hand stole into his, squeezing briefly. "I'd be happy to, Harry."
Harry took comfort in the fact that Ginny's cheeks were tinged a very becoming pink and he squeezed back her hand. A small part of him was horrified at his daring as he laced his fingers through the girl's, but the rest of him agreed wholeheartedly and applauded his Gryffindor bravery for such a bold move. It helped that the youngest Weasley apparently felt comfortable with the situation and did not mind the gentle grip at all.
Hermione had resorted to burying her face in a very disgruntled Crookshanks' fur while Ron was chortling outright.
"Shall we, Harry?" Ginny asked brightly, ignoring her brother and Hermione with an enviable aplomb.
Harry nodded silently, still overcome by the feel of Quidditch roughened fingers interlaced with his and the warmth that seeped to his very bones. It was only after persuading Hermione to let go of her cat and Ron had subsided to occasional snickers that Harry finally noticed a couple of absences.
"Where's Kyo?" he asked, frowning.
Hermione pointed near the portrait hole. Both Kyo and Hisoka were there and each had changed into casual clothes with Kyo having his double holsters of 'fudas in full view. The taller Japanese was obviously trying to talk to the blond but judging by the stiff set of the younger shoulders, he wasn't listening. He shrugged off what was obviously a plea from the black haired boy and bolted out of the portrait hole, causing two small second years to stumble back in surprise. Defeat mingled with sadness was all too clear on Kyo's face and Harry's earlier happiness sank a little under his close friend's distress. But Kyo, with disconcerting speed, covered the anguish with a happy mask. He turned and seeing Harry, cocked his head to the side, smiling and obviously inviting the boy out of the Tower.
With a forced smile of his own, Harry nodded his head and with Ginny by his side, joined Kyo in the ensuing rush for the Great Hall. Neither boy made any mention of Hisoka's disappearance and Ginny wisely said nothing.
****************
Hisoka wasn't thinking about restrictions or curfews as he turned down corridor after corridor, steadily heading away from the Great Hall and past empty classrooms. The stairs were obliging him today and in what seemed the blink of an eye, he was in the south wing, second floor.
The door to the Defense classroom was open and he could hear the sound of shuffling feet inside. Heart thudding in his throat, palms clammy with sweat and his empathy reaching out in a tangible wave for the presence he could practically see just inside the doors, Hisoka sidled quietly inside, feet in their canvas shoes making next to no sound on the stone floor. The sight of Tsuzuki, still clad in his professor's robes and crouched on the floor, wiping away the marks of warding was an almost physical blow.
Hisoka reeled back, the lack of a multitude of emotions pressuring his shields allowed him to feel the full impact of his husband's aura; one that was as familiar to him as his own. He gasped softly, hands fumbling blindly behind him for the doorjamb to support his suddenly weak legs.
Tsuzuki spun around quickly, surprise widening his amethyst eyes which quickly turned to pleasure and a rapidly growing hunger that made Hisoka whimper.
"Tsuzuki. . ."
****************
It wasn't a false alarm, Tsuzuki was damn sure of it. Like Takashi and the others, he had sensed the shift in energies that made up the wards of the castle, a delicate balance thrown out of tune from forceful entry by something that the stone's living awareness recognized as not one of its own.
But the castle's own defenses were its weakness. With so many protective spells placed throughout the centuries, the flow of magic was thick, almost muddy in some places due to lack of care. All the four Shinigami could sense was that there was something that didn't belong; an irritating anomaly as they couldn't unleash their full powers to track it down. While wizards weren't as adept as omnyouji at detecting spiritual auras, only a blind, deaf and mute wizard would fail to detect the strangeness that was a Shinigami's aura if they let go of their control over it.
He had escorted the Slytherins to their common rooms and made sure that everyone was accounted for, staying until their less-than-pleased Head of House arrived. He had then joined Takashi, Dumbledore and the rest of the professors who weren't responsible for a House in patrolling the corridors, having to rely on manual searches instead.
By lunchtime, Dumbledore had conceded defeat and lifted the lockdown. Tsuzuki wanted to protest, and he could tell that Takashi thought it was a bad move as well. But the Shinigami had yet to have a proper discussion with the Headmaster concerning their mission here and the former sensei was reluctant to assert any authority while the situation was still unclear.
It was only halfway to the Great Hall that Tsuzuki remembered the circle of runes still in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Left partly finished, he dreaded the thought of what an inquisitive student could do with that much stored power left lying around like a toy begging to be played with. Cursing softly under his breath, he had hurried back and sure enough, the chalked lines and runes glowed a soft red, thrumming with energy. Sighing, he got down to his knees and began the tedious process of dismantling the wards.
The task was almost meditative in nature; an ingrained habit from years of practice. As he bled out one rune after another, his thoughts turned to the current dilemma that the Japanese faced. It hadn't escaped Tsuzuki's attention that this mission was dragging his companions through Hell and back, tearing open the scars over events that they had long thought buried. And it worried him more than a little that his own soul might be next. He sighed, looking inward at the littered minefield of old sorrows and older regrets. No, he didn't think his psyche was in any particular danger this time. So many of his personal terrors had withered away the first time his small lover had kissed him, whispering "You're human. . .and I love you." For him, at least, the past really was likely to remain buried.
But even so, this was not turning out to be chocolate cake. He could feel the numbing despair in Hisoka, and knew that it was only a matter of time before the boy crumbled completely. It was hurting him to quarrel with Kyo over Harry's fate. Add to that his sense of helplessness when his friend had broken down, and Hisoka was a mess, himself. It was a distinct relief that the Headmaster had extended his permission for some time alone to include Tsuzuki and his partner, as well as Kyo and Takashi. Though, he thought ruefully, the Fates seem to be conspiring against us. He had come to an agreement with Takashi to trade off nights; that way, someone would always be with Harry and tonight was supposed to be their turn. But with all the commotion that the castle was in, he doubted he'd be enjoying the long-missed feel of silky skin under his calloused palms.
The circle was almost gone and with a soft sigh of regret, the last rune flared once, and disappeared. He sat back on his haunches, staring blankly before he heard a soft gasp from behind him. Tsuzuki turned quickly, mentally berating himself for letting down his guard until he realized that the intruder was none other than his husband.
He didn't know what was different this time; after all, he had been catching glimpses of Hisoka throughout the school, even posing as his professor. So why did the mere sight of his eternally sixteen year old partner just then sent something akin to an electric shock through his body, jolting him like none of the runes did?
Hisoka's eyes, wide and expressive, shimmered with emotion that Tsuzuki belatedly recognised as fear. The boy whimpered once before he twisted around, clearly meaning to flee. Without thinking, Tsuzuki sprinted into action, his long legs giving him the advantage as he quickly caught his runaway partner, and with the boy trapped in his arms, tugged him back into the empty classroom, the doors banging shut with the force of his will.
His mate was struggling in his arms, fists beating helplessly against his chest but Tsuzuki bore it silently, his mouth a thin, grim line. This was it. The final, absolute, last straw. Tsuzuki had had quite enough with having his younger partner run away from him, and it had to stop. He understood that Hisoka was under a great deal of stress; they all were. But it did not mean that he was going to tolerate any more of this sort of nonsense. The boy needed him, and he needed Hisoka in his turn. And, by Enma, they were going to spend some time together. Alone. If he had to kidnap the stubborn child in order to get it.
He said as much to the top of Hisoka's fair head, murmuring words that he was vaguely sure were comforting. It was his emotions that were doing most of the talking. Slowly and carefully so as to not send his husband into shock, he allowed his shields to lower and let Hisoka know just how much he missed the blond.
It took some time but Hisoka finally calmed down, only shivering slightly now and then before he spoke up, voice ragged. "We c-can't. Harry- "
"Is fine," his partner replied firmly. "Kyo will undoubtedly stick with the boy until dinner time at the very least. Harry doesn't need you. He's fine. I am much more concerned about what you need."
The blunt statement had the desired effect of making the boy's face blaze crimson. Even the fine creases and curves of his ears were turning interesting shades. Ducking his head to hide behind the curtain of fine, straight hair was completely useless, and Tsuzuki felt his heart beat painfully hard in a mixture of pity and desire at the sight. That such small attentions could fluster the reserved boy never failed to move him. . .and to turn him on. He liked seeing Hisoka blush, and some devil in his heart urged him to tease and flirt. . .to see just how far that warm color extended down the slender body. Tsuzuki's voice sank into an intimate murmur, "Maa, 'Soka-chan, you'll make yourself ill, worrying all the time. Let me see if you're running a temperature."
Startled, Hisoka's head jerked back up when a cool hand slid in beneath his concealing fringe, stroking across his heated forehead and trailing down to his cheek. It wasn't just the sensation of someone touching him that left Hisoka undone, but also the surge of emotional connectedness. He was falling into his life mate, into that clarity of feeling that wrapped him in its own ephemeral embrace. He stared up into the gentle concern in Tsuzuki's eyes, and saw it shift mercurially to passion, his pupils dilating to drown the petal soft violet. A terrified shiver rolled down the empath's spine as the older man's hand curled around the nape of his neck, sliding inside the collar of his shirt.
Tsuzuki let his palm rest there for a moment, willing his impatience to shut up. Hisoka was frightened and needed the chance to adjust to the contact. It had been that way practically since the day that they had met, when the boy had held him at gunpoint. It had continued, an uncontrollable physical response, even when they finally became lovers. And in its own way, it made Tsuzuki want to cry for the injustice of a world that could hurt a child so badly.
Damnably, after such a long separation, it took better than fifteen minutes before the tightly strung tendons beneath his hand relaxed, and a tremulous sigh eased out of his smaller partner. The youth's arms came up, locking around Tsuzuki's waist, and he leaned into his warmth. "I've missed you." Hisoka whispered.
"And I, you." the older Shinigami replied gravely. The boy sighed in response, tucking the crown of his head beneath Tsuzuki's chin. They remained there, standing in the center of the room for several minutes, the tension easing from both of them until Hisoka was finally ready to speak.
He shuddered softly. "Hermione found a picture of my Father. I never knew that there was a book. . .that my family's curse had been written down anywhere. I had put it out of my mind, and I thought it was all forgotten. I was wrong, Tsuzuki."
"Mmm." The answer was vague, even though he nodded against the blond head that snuggled into the curve between his jaw and throat. The implied Make me forget again, tugged at his heart. The lovely boy didn't deserve such horrible memories, and his useless family hadn't deserved him. How could they have not seen the value of the treasure in their midst? It had taken Tatsumi and Watari's intervention to break the legendary curse and to defeat the snake god intent on devouring the House of Kurosaki whole. But the blame for Hisoka's damaged soul belonged entirely to the mortal realm; to his thrice damned family, and to the soul-rapist Muraki that their cupidity had attracted to their midst. No god was responsible for the hurts done to the boy; humans were entirely the ones at fault.
Tsuzuki closed his eyes briefly: no use to howl over what was done. What was important was the present, that he make sure his mate knew just how much he was loved, how beautiful he really was and that he'd do it again and again, till time collapsed unto itself. He let his hands drift down, stroking softly as he familiarized himself again with the slim, lithe and ethereal form of the empath, proving with touch and emotions the depth of his feelings.
Hisoka's mouth opened in a soft gasp, his hands tightening on Tsuzuki's shoulders. His eyes half opened almost shyly, head turning to one side to let his hair drift across his face. His hips moved in answer to the touch of his love's hand, rocking him into the fingers and palm curled around the curve of his bottom. He kneaded the muscles at the back of Tsuzuki's neck, his actions becoming almost frantic. "Ts- Tsu. . .zuki. . ." he stammered incoherently, aware that the low flame kindled in his belly was just as apparent to the older man as they slipped into synch. That they were still standing in the middle of the Defense classroom, fully clothed and locked into a clinch that had the potential to become embarrassingly pornographic was making the smaller Shinigami decidedly uncomfortable. It was also painfully arousing. Which, as he caught a glimpse of the infuriatingly broad grin working its way onto Tsuzuki's face, was probably exactly what the man had in mind.
Oh, it definitely was. Both of Tsuzuki's hands were now engaged in fondling his buttocks. The tall man leaned back a little, the shift in balance allowing him to lift Hisoka from the floor. He had to have been counting on the blond's instinctive response, which was to wrap his unsupported legs around his partner's hips. The movement opened the crease between the boy's cheeks, allowing Tsuzuki's agile fingertips to rub over his entrance, promising and teasing. Groaning, Hisoka muttered a curse. Gods. . .that felt so good. . .
For his part, Tsuzuki was sure that if his ear to ear grin got any wider that he would dislocate something. Through the tight stretched fabric of the boy's slacks the heat of his body was almost more than Tsuzuki could bear. And the noises that he was making -! The boy squirmed breathlessly, and risked letting go entirely of his partner's neck, transferring his thin fingers to the knot in his partner's tie. And cursed again in a shaking falsetto as the crooked knot resisted. Then the tie was off, and the buttons of Tsuzuki's shirt were yielding, and oh. . .Enma send him on to Eternal Judgement if that wet mouth moving across his chest wasn't the best damned thing that he had ever felt.
Sharp teeth followed the line of his collarbone and up, biting with deceptive care at the raised lines of Tsuzuki's straining throat. He retaliated by squeezing the flesh cupped in his hands, and Hisoka squeezed back with his thighs. His shirt was open nearly to his navel now, granting access to his nipples and the smooth planes of his chest. The little demon's nails scraped lightly over the washboard pattern of the older man's ribs as his hands travelled inside the confines of the crumpled white shirt. One of them snaked around to Tsuzuki's back, using its owner's empathic connection to find and manipulate each of the pressure points there. The other followed the same tactic on his front, massaging the pads of muscle that bunched helplessly under the assault.
Tsusuki jerked the suspended boy tightly against him, rubbing his own erection against Hisoka's exposed genitals. After having nothing but their shared dreams for weeks, the firm caress of another's aroused body was almost enough to bring him off on the spot. Judging by the harsh panting against his throat, the feeling was mutual.
Hisoka wriggled a hand down between their bodies, but it was impossible to unbuckle either of their belts. He plunged back and forth, shuddering as his lover's fingers tried to probe through the light wool of his trousers, and his own questing digits encountered a hot, damp space between them. A muscle in his thigh twitched, sending a ripple of sensation straight to his groin. Ah. . .Hisoka stroked his thumb over the tops of both their erections, his empathy feeding the falling wrench of the impending crisis back and forth between their minds. It was just too good to stay contained, and the earthquake-sized tremors sweeping out rumpled the air around their bodies with a pulse of intense magic. Tsuzuki's hoarse voice was pleading for him to Wait! Damn it! but he couldn't have held back if he'd wanted to.
Tsuzuki's legs buckled as another shock wave of power burst out, centered on the root chakra at the base of the Hisoka's spine. There was no mistaking the sexual flavor of the intense energy, visibly red as it spread out. It shivered in time with the tempo of the boy's orgasm, a visible manifestation of the clenching of his muscles and his sharp cry of agony. Hisoka lurched back, the movement limited by his legs locked around his partner, hyperventilating with the desperation of his need to feel Tsuzuki buried inside his body. Another violent spasm rocked his form, tinted orange with the energy of his sacral chakra. He wanted Tsuzuki, would take him dry and unprepared, accepting the damage that it would do to his too small body, but his clothes were in the way. The internal muscles shook, poised on edge of the secondary orgasm that would shatter him into a million pieces. When had he gotten so used to feeling another person deep inside his body? It didn't matter; his scream of frustration tore out of his throat as he folded the space around them and teleported the two of them out of Hogwarts.
****************
Kyo, as fidgety as a cat on a hot tin roof, was damn sure that they were being lulled into a false sense of security. He kept expecting someone, or something to jump out at him or Harry from around a dark corner. It got so bad that he had to visibly restrain himself from reaching for his ofudas again. He was aware (and a little part of him was maliciously gleeful about it) that the students tended to get nervous when he did that. Lunch was a strained affair for him. He had tried to talk to Hisoka again before coming down, but the blond had brushed him off with a cold smoothness that was distinctly Hisoka. His nerves were frayed, thinning strands snapping under the pressure of an unresolved fight with his best friend and the sure insistence that they were going to be attacked right now and no, he did not want any fish and chips, thank you, Hermione!
Surrounded on all sides by the bright laughter of children a third his age, and unburdened by the troublesome instincts born from more than three decades of fighting things that are best not mentioned at the dining table, Kyo was practically grinding his teeth in frustration. Takashi was at the staff table, face similarly pale and the one glance they had exchanged confirmed that his husband felt the same uneasiness as well. The slight nod Takashi gave told him that the professors weren't as sure and the knot in Kyo's stomach tightened.
It didn't help that nothing happened during lunch, not during the walk back and not during the impromptu chess match between the sixth and seventh years. By the time Ron was declared the undisputed chess king of Gryffindor, Kyo was in the process of ripping his fifth blank parchment to shreds, Crookshanks purring ecstatically as strips of paper littered his fur and fell further victim to his claws.
"Nervous much?"
Kyo jumped, cursing at the unexpected voice. Hermione subjected him to an amused, if slightly reprimanding stare. "I don't think even a boy your age is supposed to know that many swear words, Kyo."
The black haired Japanese refused to blush. He was too old for all this stress and tension, dammit! He growled something unintelligible under his breath and went back to his duty as a human paper shredder. Hermione sat down beside him, watching silently. After a minute or two, she said, softly, "Kyo, are you alright?"
"No, I'm not alright!" Kyo snapped. "Everyone is damn sure that nothing's going to happen and they're all blind!"
Hermione blinked, surprised by his vehement reaction. Almost everyone in Gryffindor had noticed the Japanese's edginess and as dinnertime neared, he was practically jumping out of his skin. Harry had given up trying to calm him down and had wandered off to cheer on Ron. In fact, everyone was giving him a wide berth until Hermione herself had taken it up as her duty to reassure their honorary Gryffindor. Now, if only she could find their other honorary Gryffindor who had decided to pull a disappearing act on them. When she had informed McGonagall earlier of Hisoka's absence, the professor had looked alarmed, before realisation dawned in her eyes and she actually blushed, telling Hermione that she was. . .ah, sure that Mr. Kurosaki was just fine.
It took cornering Harry before Hermione found out about the relaxed restrictions on the Japanese. While she was happy for them, she wondered whether Kyo would actually benefit from a night with his husband as well.
With careful aplomb, she told Kyo that.
At least, it had the effect of temporarily leaving the boy dumbstruck until he gave a strangled hiss and went back to his shredding with renewed vengeance.
When the portrait hole was unsealed for dinner, Kyo joined Harry's group, stuffing his twitching hands into his pockets. He thought about running back to the dorms to get a sweater; he was only wearing a black short-sleeved t-shirt over a long-sleeved white one and his most faded jeans, his black holsters prominent on both legs. But Harry was already clambering over the portrait hole and something warned the Japanese that he better not let the young wizard out of his sight
"Harry!" he called out. "Wait up!"
Harry stopped, turning around and giving him an impatient look. "Hurry up! I'm hungry!"
Kyo rolled his eyes. Trust a sixteen year old to think about his stomach at a time like this. Managing a small grin as he contemplated the little consistencies of life, Kyo jogged lightly towards Harry, Ginny waiting patiently by his side. He was just about to give Harry an affectionate clip around the head, had in fact, brushed his fingers over Harry's hair when the stones cried out.
Danger! Attack! Protect the children!
He moved intuitively, his intended swat turning into a powerful grip as he grabbed both Harry and Ginny. "Everyone!" he shouted. The students stopped in their tracks, confusion evident on their faces. "Back to the Tower! Now!"
***to be continued***
A/N: We haven't had a long chapter like that in ages. Tsk, internet-deprivation; it's amazing what it can do to you. HAVE YOU READ THE WARNING PRECEEDING THE CHAPTER? If you haven't, I highly encourage you to do so.
Librarycat: Kyo calling Harry a peach. . .Okay, aside from being general slang, the peach is the Taoist Tree of Life in the Kun Lun Paradise. It bestows immortality and is the food of the Taoist immortals. It was thought that the peaches in the celestial orchard ripened every 3000 years. It's auspicious to have a peach.
Kelly: *points above* That was a remark left by Lisa after beta-ing the chapter. I figured you guys might like to know that little tidbit.